


Retrograde

by LeilaSecretSmith (orphan_account)



Series: Communication is Key [1]
Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pre mystery skulls ghost, Whump, amnesiac!Vivi, amnesiac!arthur, idk what’s canon but they both lost their memory here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 20:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LeilaSecretSmith
Summary: How do you miss what you can’t remember? Arthur demonstrates.





	Retrograde

**Author's Note:**

> If you follow me for something else IM SORRY I HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD. I promise I’m working on everything else too, it’s just slow going.

Arthur didn’t like the cold and never had. It had a way of burrowing into his bones, making him ache and tremble even in mild weather. He chilled easily, his slim build and smaller size making him more susceptible to the cold than either Vivi or L—

Or L—

Arthur didn’t like being cold, especially not like this, with cold stone beneath him and his left side soaked to the skin and exposed to frigid air. At least there was something warm beneath his head. Someone warm. Soft. She smelled like death.

That wasn't right. Someone was missing. Where was L—

Where was L—

He lost the thought a second later.

“Vivi?”

The crying stalled, and his pillow stopped hitching so much. “You still with me, Artie?” Her voice was worryingly hoarse, but Arthur’s concern slipped away as soon as it came, lost to the floating cold.

“‘M cold,” he complained in a voice that couldn’t rise above a whisper.

“I kn—“ she choked. A trembling hand came to rest on his forehead. Why was her hand wet? “I know. I know. Help is coming, just hold on. They’ll get you warm.”

Help? What did he need help for? He was fine, just cold. The confusion slipped from his grasp as a dull ringing sound started in his ears. He realized, distantly, that he couldn’t feel his fingers or toes. Actually, he couldn’t feel his left arm at all.

“...Vivi?”

She was crying again. “Just hang on, Artie, please.” There were faint sirens, getting louder and louder even over the ringing in his ears. “They’re almost here.”

“Kay... ‘d some’ne get hurt?”

Vivi moaned, low and pained in the back of her throat. Arthur’s breath hitched. She was hurt? Was she hurt?

“You, Artie,” she sobbed, and something dripped onto his forehead. “You’re hurt.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what to feel about that. A second later, he forgot to feel at all.

Voices yelled. A dog barked insistently. Boots pounded into cold stone, racing toward them. Who was leading them? Probably Mystery and L—

Mystery and L—

Mystery lead the paramedics directly to them. After that there was a lot of shouting and bright lights and a nice lady who asked him if he could open his eyes, if he could please tell her the day, his name, what had happened. They moved him onto a gurney as she spoke. He couldn’t open his eyes. Yes, he knew his name. No, he didn’t know the day. No, he didn’t know what had happened.

Vivi and Mystery stayed by his side as they loaded him into the ambulance. Darkness crept up on him, bit by silent bit, and he was confused. His thoughts spun in tight circles, repeating one question that was never quite completed.

Where was L—

Where was L—

Where—

Wh—


End file.
